


these moments we cherish (they are our, always)

by MatildaSwan



Series: this family of ours, we wouldn't change it for the world [4]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Family Feels, Farmyard Antics, Literally Every Other Family Member, barns are good, even queerer than last time, plus some OFCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Once a seed has taken root, the tree will grow stronger, day by day; branching out as far as its limbs can manage.This family is no different.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: this family of ours, we wouldn't change it for the world [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/899424
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	these moments we cherish (they are our, always)

**Author's Note:**

> This started out life as a prompt fill for 'barns' literally a million years ago. It quickly spiralled out of control into a bundle of hopeful, healing found family feels, hence why it's taken so long to complete. 
> 
> Infinite thank yous to Jess, for betaing and cheering and generally just being a wonderful supportive energy. This fic would never have been finished without your assistance. And thank you to Myfi and Reg for being babes <3

It’s beautiful, sunny and even a little warm, a rarity in the English countryside: flowers blooming, bees buzzing, bird chirping softly in their nests while their parents coax them to fly. They couldn’t have wished for a more perfect day to spread out over half a dozen picnic blankets—just enough to cradle their vast number—under the shade of the oldest apple tree in the orchard, and look out over the countryside. 

Serena looks beyond a handful of ants harvesting a fallen plum, just over there, and out over the lush, rolling mountains and all the greenery surrounding them. Somehow it’s even more beautiful than the crisp white which covered the countryside the first time they came here. 

She might love this place most in the end of spring, at the crux between this season and the next, with spring in full bloom and summer its most serene. Is forever glad her youngest grandchild decided to hold on those few weeks longer, only arriving when she was good and ready. Loves this time of year, the flowers, the clouds, even the bees. 

Because she loves her granddaughter’s birthday most of all, and the only thing more beautiful—besides her wife’s smile, of course—is her granddaughter’s bright, happy gurgle while her pleased as punch parents hold tight as she blows out the single candle on her first birthday cake. 

Baby Bea claps and gurgles and the circle of adults applaud and cheer, save for Sian, self appointed photographer of the day, currently snapping a million photos a minute, trying to capture every second ofthe cake cutting ceremony—Lottie acting as the knife welding proxy while Polly struggles to stop Beatrix from slapping the cream covered cake — while the rest of the brood splay out across overlapping plaid blankets.

Sian leans back into Cam, sat behind her with a comforting hand on her back—pecking at the tray of dips separating him from Jason and Greta—to get a better angle of Gwen, sat close to Serena. She snaps another of Bernie and Marcus, beaming at their grandchild just beside. Another of Ruby moving close to Alice to avoid Bea’s sticky hands as she wiggles in Polly’s lap. 

Serena looks at Bernie, a smile on her lips as blonde hair turns golden in the sunlight, gleaming and gorgeous, and forgets all about Sian’s watchful eye.

‘God, will you two ever stop mooning at each other,’ Sian huffs with no real bite, bringing Serena back to the present. She blushes, turns to snap at her friend; finds her beaming back, eyes glistening, and knows she’s been filming them.

‘Sian,’ she warns, knowing it won’t do a thing to stop her incorrigible friend. Leans over to steal a quick kiss anyway, just because she can. Stay close and tangles Bernie’s pinkie with her own. ‘Talking about mooning,’ she murmurs, nodding slightly towards Alice and Ruby, Polly’s best friend and her addition to their little family. 

And, just maybe, a new addition to Marcus’s branch of the tree, if the look she’s sending his girlfriend is anything to go by; positively smouldering while Ruby offers up a particularly creamy forkful of cake. Because Alice smoulders right back, smiling as she wraps her lips around the fork, and a dollop ends up smeared into the corner of her mouth. 

No one is surprised when Ruby reaches over to wipe it clean with the pad of her thumb. Nor when she licks the thumb clean, eyes locked with Alice.

Bernie smirks. She never could resist the opportunity to rib at Marcus. Uses the cake passing as an excuse to lean close. ‘Looks like Alice is going to have more girlfriends than Cam does at this rate.’

‘God, I hope so,’ Marcus breathes out. He does a double take, clearly surprised at what he’s let slip out, and Bernie eyes him till he wilts. His voice drops even lower than before, just audible over the din of the picnic. ‘I can’t keep up with her at the moment. I swear she’ll do my back in if we don’t find her another partner soon.’

Bernie bites back a snort. Slaps his shoulder. ‘Chin up, buddy. If you need any tips you know who to call.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ he says good naturedly, pushing Bernie’s back lightly. She lets herself flop to the side, her hair almost brushing Serena’s arm before she rights herself, a cheeky grin on her face to match Marcus’s smile. 

‘What are you two gossiping about?’ Lottie pipes up, eyeing them with suspicion. 

‘Nothing!’ they assure in unison, digging into the cake while they smile.

‘Yeah, it better not be.’ Polly stares daggers at them, as she does whenever she suspects her in-law are up to their old tricks, her eyes glinting with good gay fun as she holds the stare.

She did always have a flare for the dramatics.

As does baby Bea, who’s inherited her sense of timing, taking the opportunity to smush at her piece of cake before slapping Polly in the face with a handful of cream. 

Polly blinks. 

‘Thanks, honey,’ she says, deadpan and chin dripping. ‘I really appreciated that.’

She manages to hold the stern face for a few beats, before a smiles stretches across her whole face, cream in the corner of her mouth.

The picnic erupts, laughter echoing across the field while Polly wipes at her face. She glares at her wife, who’s no help at all, tears steaming down her face while she wheezes, clutching at her sides, until Ruby rescues Beatrix, bundling the squirming tot into a hug. 

Serena drinks in the happy sight and reaches out to take Bernie’s hand. Finds it already waiting for her, and a warmth settles in her heart. 

Some days are hard—when her throat closes over and she can barely speak, chest too tight for her to even breath; when she can’t feel the brightness of her current life for the memories of her dead daughter, buried in the ground and pulling her down alongside—but times like these make each hard day that much easier. 

To be here with her cosy little family, all full of misfits and wonder, creating their own lives and inviting her to join. 

It’s all she’s ever wanted. 

Even if her own daughter, her first daughter, isn’t with them anymore. 

What she has now is enough. It has to be. Because she has so much, so many to love, and they all lighten the load when it gets too much.

Charlotte and Polly, as much hers as Bernie’s now, the two of them filling her heart with delight, along with their tiny muppet.

And Jason, of course, as much Bernie’s as hers; now a grown man and well settled into his life. He might not need his Auntie Serena anymore, but he wants her all the same—to be part of this world he’s built with Greta, with Guin, with their two hamsters, Nugget and Niblet. Has said so many times, to both of them, in fact, and Serena thinks that’s even better. 

Not least because it gave her Guin. 

Sweet little Guinevere, forever the bookworm. Growing so fast now, laying on their back with a book in their hand. Always researching, just like their Father. Dedicated and clear on their goals, on their logic, on the rules of engagement: just like their Mother. 

It’s been hard, almost impossible at times. But they got through it as a unit, learnt long ago raising a child, _this_ child, took all of them; a close knit crew mismatched to fit perfectly together. Greta to balance Jason and she him, Guin and Serena to balance the two of them, and Guin to learn how to adapt, when to stay rigid, what works best for them and them all. 

Serena had been right, all those years ago. Guin does need her. They’re thick as thieves, always conspiring, always inspiring the other to do better, to be better. 

She knows Bernie is her soulmate, but sometimes she thinks Guin might be her better half. 

The one she missed most when she and Bernie ran off to elope, depriving them all of the chance to see Guin in a bear suit taking charge of the rings. The one who missed her most during her second secondment to the states and Bernie’s first to Nairobi; the first one to welcome her when she returned, open arms ready and waiting a solid six months before Bernie finally landed homeside again. 

The first person Guin told they didn’t feel like a girl, didn’t want to be boy, felt like they were somewhere in between and nowhere at all. 

‘Well,’ Serena had said, rubbing her grandchild’s arm to soothe the worry away. ‘I’m sure there’s a word for that, so let’s go find it.’

And so they had, Guin smiling more than they ever did, fitting happily into themselves and a life they’re happy to grow up into. 

A life that led them here, to now, sitting on a picnic blanket with the rest of their extended family to celebrate the first birthday of their newest addition, stuffing themselves till nothing but crumbs is left of their feast.

Lottie and Cam toss a coin to see who cleans up. Lottie wins, cackling as she shuffles closer to her wife; Cam pulls Marcus up to help. 

‘Us blokes have to stay together,’ he says, grinning. ‘We’re outnumbered.’

‘Too right,’ Lottie jeers, just the hint of challenge in her voice. 

Serena giggles, laying back to make herself comfortable on Sian’s tummy, gurgling softly. Guin shuffles over to lay their head on Serena’s hip, sighs as Serena’s hand falls to their hair, stroking softly. 

Serena smiles, closes her eyes, breathes in, blissful and content: Sian’s hand on her shoulder, Bernie’s thigh just beside her head. Opens them to look up at the sky, watching the clouds puff across the sky before disappearing over the mountain tops. 

Closes her eyes again, breathing in the calm and quiet. Opens them when a shadow crosses her nose to find a head of golden hair in front of the soft grey sky. 

She smiles up at Bernie, smiles against her lips as she bends down to steal a kiss, blond curls brushing a dimpled chin. Beacheers, clapping the way she does whenever she sees them kiss. She seems to like it when they’re affectionate with each other, like she knows what love looks like. 

Serena suspects she learnt that from her parents, that she and Bernie are just icing on the cake, but it fills her up, makes her buoyant. Makes her love her tiny granddaughter all the more, the perfect addition to this perfectly odd family.

She loves her strange, ever-growing family: her dearest friends and their loved ones. Holds a freshly poured glass aloft, still laying on Sian’s stomach and Guin on hers.

‘Watch out, Cam,’ Marcus says, softly elbowing his son in the ribs as he settles back on the blanket. ‘Sian might leave you to run off with her favourite girls.’

Cam snorts, before a chorus of ‘Not a girl!’ resounds around the field, Guin voice strongest of all.

Marcus’s face falls, eyes widening as he realises he’s misspoken. ‘Too right,’ he admits. ‘Sorry, should have said, favourite…beans?’

Guin considers for a moment, looking away from their book and out towards the mountaintop, face the picture of consternation. ‘Acceptable,’ they say eventually, nodding softly and smiling slightly. ‘Bean,’ they roll the word around in their mouth, tasting it. ‘I like that, keep using it,’ is the end of the matter, and promptly returns to their book. 

‘That’s me told,’ Marcus mumbles as he sits down again, and Bernie flashes him a smile. Then her eyes narrow, as a flock of geese waddle on by, goslings in tow.

Serena remembers the first time they came here, Bernie’s bolt and vault over the fence, and bites back a snort. Bernie pinches her waist and Serena knows she’s been caught. Then a herd of cows wander through the far paddock, at the bottom of the hill, and she eyes them all suspiciously too. 

She can feel Bernie trying to stifle her laughter, knows she’s holding herself back from making a quip. In the end she makes one herself; even she’ll admit calves are adorable, whining at their mothers till they’ll let them feed. 

She’s settled back against Bernie’s shoulder when she hears tiny peeps, feels Bernie tense behind her. Is unseated, almost rudely, by Bernie rushing to her knees to crane her neck towards the sound. 

And sure enough, coming into view as they waddle through the orchard with the padding of tiny, webbed feet on grass, soft quacks getting closer as another proud parent shows off their children: a line of them, five in a row, new ducklings on their way down the hill to the water where they were born. 

She looks towards Bernie, sees her beaming they way she does whenever her duck friend comes to visit, and smiles softly at the sight before her. 

Pedro brakes away from his brood, pads towards Bernie’s outstretched hand, gobbling up sunflower seeds while Bernie fills him in on recently gossip. 

‘And what fine children you’ve made!’ she ends on, and Pedro quacks like he understands. 

Serena smiles, enamoured with the sight; sighs softly as Bernie says goodbye to Pedro and watches the family trail away to the water down below. 

Clouds begin to mar the sky and the picnic breaks up: the perishables and ant magnets safely inside and Polly and Lottie begging off to enjoy an uninterrupted snuggle now they’ve got half a dozen babysitters on hand. 

‘Come on, time to walk off all that cake,’ Serena urges. Looks at Bernie, still as lean and lanky as the day they met, as active as ever despite the pains of growing older, the adjustments of menopause. Sniffs. ‘Not that you need to, metabolism like yours.’ 

Bernie grins, her hand out and waiting, always happy to have an excuse to put her palm against Serena’s and hold tight. ‘If the lady insists.’

They wander along the fence line, hand in hand, till they reach the corner boundary, the furthermost juncture of the farm that rolls along to become hedgerows and grassy pastures. 

Serena hangs back as Bernie pulls away to lean against the fence, drinking in the sight of Bernie bent slightly at the hip, jeans pulled tight as the woman wearing them looks perfectly at home against the mountain that looms large overhead. 

She smiles. It really is a marvellous view. 

‘You know,’ Bernie starts, some time later, breaking the silence as Serena finally abandons her daydream about a particularly comfortable looking tree nearby to lean against the fence, too. ‘It looks a little like a giant.’

‘What?’

‘The mountain. It looks like a giant, sleeping on its side.’ 

Serena frowns, turning to stare. ‘Does it?’

‘It does!’ Bernie implores, and begins to point. Her forearm brushes against Serena’s. ‘Those are its legs, that’s a knee and that’s an arm, and _that_ mound is its head.’

Serena follows Bernie’s finger, trying to see the hillside the way her wife can; she can just about manage it, if she squints. A lot.

Bernie senses her hesitation and pouts, all but stubbing the toe of her shoe on the ground like a petulant child. 

The effect is far more attractive that it has a right to be. 

Serena’s heart hums beneath her breast bone; she turns, burrows right into Bernie’s arms, kisses the frown from her face. 

‘I love you,’ she whispers against Bernie’s lips, so full of adoration she’ll burst if she doesn’t say it. Revels in the fact that it can still feel like this, that _she_ can feel like this.

That Bernie feels it too.

She can taste it in the way she whispers, ‘I love you, too,’ right back as she brings their lips together again. Hums as Bernie licks at the seam of her mouth and loses herself in the kiss, pressing Bernie against the fence as her hands wander, nimble fingers finding their way under Bernie’s shirt.

Her thumb chaffs at the bottom of Bernie’s bra when a shout echoes up from the stream, rolling around the hillside.

They break apart, both flushed and smiling. 

‘Got a bit carried away there, sorry,’ she apologises, looking anything but; Bernie ghosts another kiss over her top lip as she slowly retrieves her hand. ‘You just look so delectable.’

‘I’m not complaining,’ Bernie replies, looking a little misty eyed. ‘Just you wait till we get home.’

Serena steps back, putting some space between them; uses it to rake her eyes up Bernie’s lithe form, messy hair and kiss bruised lips and all. ‘Why wait?’

Another shout echoes around them; a little louder, a lot closer. 

‘That would be why.’

They both grimace; the rest of the family might still be a solid mile away and only audible because of the acoustics of the valley, but their daughter’s farm is no place for a quick fumble against a fence post. 

‘But,’ Bernie adds, a smile pulling her lips wide as she looks slightly to the left of Serena’s face. ‘You know what I always say.’ 

‘And what would that be?’ 

‘Barns are good.’

Serena laughs as they run inside the building. Vaguely registers the smell of hay and cow before she’s pushed against the door, banging it closed behind them, and Bernie sets about making her melt. 

She hums, sinking into the kiss, as Bernie’s hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer; her own hands pick up where she left off, making short work of rucking Bernie’s shirt up and smoothing a palm over her skin. Lips work over her neck, blazing a trail along her jaw; she sighs as a thigh slips between her own.

A deep rumble reverberates around the barn.

They break apart, heads snapping towards the noise to find a heifer staring at them with big wide cow eyes.

‘Moo,’ she repeats, head listing to the side, trying to decipher the strange human ritual in front of her. 

A honk bursts out of Bernie, Serena’s answering snort not far behind; she buries her face in Bernie’s shoulder, holding tight as they both shake with laughter. 

Slowly, Serena pulls back to rest her forehead against Bernie’s as she gets her breathing under control, their limbs untangling. 

‘When we get home,’ she promises, sealing it with a kiss before smoothing down Bernie’s unruly hair.

Bernie nods, preening into Serena’s palm before moving to push the barn door wide open.

They watch the cow plod on past, down to the herd at the bottom of the pasture; see the rest of the family making their way up the hill.

‘Come on,’ Bernie says, buffeting Serena’s shoulder gently. ‘Best get back.’ She offers out a hand. ‘Don’t want them sending out a search party.’

Serena smiles, slides her hand into Bernie’s; it’s warm and solid against hers, as she leads the way home. 


End file.
